Prayer of Saint Francis

Sunday, February 16, 2014

A nice thing happened to me today. I took my Chihuahua and my foster Chihuahua to the healing services at Harmony Grove Spiritualist Association. When people saw how well we all had bonded, they were quite touched. Taco is a good dog. He fits in with the family and is easy to care for. I don't, however, have the money to adopt another dog. An acquaintance came to me during the break and gave me two hundred dollars--one seventy five for the adoption fee and twenty five for dog food. Another lady handed me a twenty dollar bill. Taco is now mine to keep forever. It takes a village.

Today I was talking to a lady with a friend who has a blind
dog. She says the friend allows the dog to snap at people and she thinks the
friend should keep the dog away from people before someone gets hurt. While I
talked to her, I was of the mind that people should be afraid of the dog. But
later, I was meditating with my dogs and got a different perspective.

Suddenly, I could see the world through the “eyes” of that
dog. The world was dark and blurry and the dog was shivering. It was scared to
death when it heard unfamiliar voices. I saw the necessity for the dog to feel
safe. I envisioned a pink flannel (the color for kindness) in a kennel with a
nice knuckle bone. The dog needs the sides of the kennel to be able to navigate
where it is. It needs the knuckle bone so it can enjoy life and not have to
worry about its blindness. The world is different when you see it through the eyes of a dog.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

I was sickened to read that this puppy sustained more than seventeen injuries after being given away on Craigslist last September. Her tongue was split, her eye was stabbed, and she was half the weight she should have been. After giving my foster dog away to someone over the weekend, this story is particularly disturbing. My foster dog was given to a kind-hearted man. She got the best home possible but I still feel the weight of the responsibility I had in choosing which home she went to.

When Russell was about to take her home, Dizza looked confused. She looked at me and seemed to say, "I love you so why am I going with him? What is happening to me?" Fostering is a tough job but someone has to do it.

Puppy Doe's story has destroyed me, left me totally heartbroken. May the sick bastard who did this have the same thing done to him in hell. I wish the worst for him, the absolute worst. I've adopted damaged pit bulls, but none have been treated this badly. Euthanasia was unfortunately the only option because even if she did survive her multiple injuries, behaviorally she would never be right. She'd probably turn vicious around the age of four years. May you rest in peace, precious soul. No one can ever hurt you again.

Sunday, February 2, 2014

For more than 12 years, I volunteered at the San Diego County Department of Animal Services in Carlsbad and various other shelters and rescues throughout the county. My work became known as "Melinda's Magic" because when I spent one to three hours a day for two or three consecutive days with a particular dog, it would get adopted after languishing there for weeks or months. I devised my own healing strategy that seemed to work. Three years ago, I began attending services at Harmony Grove Spiritualist Association. The mediums there who didn't know me and didn't know each other continually pointed out the fact that I was "gifted," a "healer" or that I had a lot of electricity when they touched my aura.

Yesterday, I had one of my most amazing stories yet. I'd been fostering a little wire-haired fox terrier. She growled at other people and dogs but not me. She did a lot of nervous chewing particularly if she was kept in a kennel too long.

I did a healing on her right away. I spread a blanket on the floor, burned some sage, lit a candle, and put on Native American flute music. A few minutes later, she was curled up on the floor in a ball. After that, she got along fine with my dogs. I also prayed on my knees that she would find an owner who would love her unconditionally.

Two days later, I received an e-mail from the rescue saying that someone was interested in the dog. He came from LA to see her yesterday and I was impressed by his kindness and the love in his heart. He held her face in his hands and called her his girl. I knew he was the one. I could only hope that he would see it too.

After interacting with her for an hour or so, he wanted me to ride with him and the dog to go out for lunch. He wanted me along so she would feel safer. He was very considerate of her and I was impressed. But I have to say that as a victim of sexual assault, it was difficult for me to trust anybody. I realized then how much we expect of these dogs. Dizza had to go home with a complete stranger and I only had to ride a short way with him. So for her sake, and the fact that the guy is gay, I got in the car and had a very nice lunch. Dizza, who came from Mexico, who was adopted out and returned to the rescue for trying to chew her way out of a kennel, rode home in the back of a Mercedes and will be hiking in the Hollywood Hills.

God bless Russell and God bless Dizza. I will keep them in my prayers.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

About twenty four hours before these photos were taken, the foster terrier was intimidated by the big dog. She would growl at him and there was even an episode of submissive wetting on my couch...yuck!

After they each received an energy healing, they are in harmony. They are going in the same direction and are comfortable enough to veg out together.

The terrier had been returned to the rescue because it tried to chew its way out of a kennel and was "too much trouble." She is doing much better in my care.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

I have admired Dr. Phil McGraw for a long time, in fact, we
share a little history. Six years ago, my story, Adopting Katie, appeared on the back page of Good Housekeeping(January 2007). That month, Dr. Phil was on
the cover. My story was about how I rescued an old dog from the shelter
(Adopting Katie). My latest story is about how Dr. Phil inadvertently rescued
me.

For fourteen years, I lived in hell with a man I didn’t
love. We had a marriage license and the ceremony took place on June 5, 1999,
but this man was never a husband to me. Two weeks before the wedding ceremony
took place, he showed up with a truck and began moving his things in. He shoved
my things aside and put his wherever he wanted. On more than one occasion, I
realized he considered my home a free motel.

After we were married, he lived in my home for several
months without offering a dime to pay his way. When I finally asked him why, he
said that he owed more than $60,000 on his credit card.

I was dizzy.

He still didn’t offer anything and I soon grew weary. I told
him to get out and a few months later, I visited a mutual friend at her house.
She said, “You know, Craig has been living in the old trailer in our backyard
for months and he hasn’t offered us a dime. Can you believeit?”

I said, “Yes, that’s why he’s here. He didn’t offer me a
dime either. You have to throw him out.”

“But Joe found him living in his truck!”

“That’s too bad. He needs to take care of himself,” I said,
and left the matter at that.

A few weeks later, Craig was back. He’d seen the writing on
the wall. Our friends had sold the truck out from under him and so he was now
willing to pay a few dollars toward his expenses.

He promised that if I gave him four years, the money trouble
would be gone. So I gave him that time and throughout the following years, he
met one financial disaster after another. There were too many to name here so
I’ll just hit the highlights.

Before I met him, he bought a timeshare so he’d “have
someplace to go.” It was a financial strain to pay for it and I often told him
to sign it over to the company that sold it to him to get out from under it. He
refused. After a few years, we couldn’t even use it anymore because he was
behind on his maintenance fee but still had to pay the monthly payments. He
tried to sell it but to no avail and refused to let it go into foreclosure. He
was putting good money after bad. Eventually, He lost the whole thing and all
of the thousands of dollars he put into it.

I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2004. I was in the
operating room at PalomarMedicalCenter
having a lumpectomy performed when Craig took my car without my permission and
went out to pay some bills and have lunch. After the surgery, I asked him where
he’d been. When I heard he’d gone out to lunch, I said, “Couldn’t you have
eaten in the cafeteria?”

He made a face. “I don’t like cafeteria food.”

He had to have a $600 a month truck and an expensive cell
phone to do his job at The Auto Trader. He only made $15 per hour. Every year,
The Auto Trader would promise to supply a truck but the management never did.
One day, I rode to the corporate office with him. I stunned to see a whole
fleet of trucks in the back lot not being used. He made excuses and kept going
the way he had been. When he got laid off in 2008, he was broke, having blown
through his retirement account years earlier.

He filled out the unemployment forms wrong and so five
months out of the next two years, he had no income at all. No one would hire
him and eventually his truck was repossessed. At 62, he was forced to take
early Social Security payments and so got only $1,100 per month instead of
$1,700.

If I complained about any of this, he yelled at me. He
somehow turned it around so that it was all my fault. In 20011, we were almost
homeless. I had four dogs that I refused to abandoned no matter what. He laid
in his room and refused to take a bath. If I tried to talk to him, he’d slam
the door in my face or yell at me to get out. The dumbest thing he’s ever
done—and trust me there were many—was to put my Lane cedar chest on the curb
instead of on the porch like I asked him to.

I really hadn’t wanted to get rid of it, but I had no room
for it. My mother had paid a lot of money for it as a graduation gift from
highs school. It had sentimental value and even though the outside was
scratched, was no doubt worth hundred dollars. I decided that if I gave it to
Am Vets, it would go to a good cause. My father had been a Marine and my
son-in-law was in the Navy.

I came home one day to find a note on the door. The Am Vet
driver asked where the chest was. Perplexed, I asked Craig and he said he had
decided to help the guy out and put it on the curb instead of on the porch.

Someone had thought it was free and had take i!

I remember sitting in the bathroom and sobbing. With Craig,
you take one step forward and twenty back. I asked God what I had ever done to
derve him. I really hated him and wanted him dead for what he’d done.

Now, it is 2014. He’s Social Security check is being
garnished due to back taxes. For years, I accused him of not making any money,
of borrowing from Peter to pay Paul. He told me it was all bullshit, that he
was making $40,000 a year and doing fine. He though it was perfectly all right
to deliver pizza at night so that he could use the tip money to buy gas for his
day job. He failed to mention that, as an independent contractor, he hadn’t
been paying taxes on any of the pizza delivery income.

Once he lost his truck, he decided to use my SUV to deliver
pizza so he “could make money.” He insisted that it was half his, even though
my father and I had paid for it. When I refused to let him, he constantly
blamed me for his state of poverty and kept secret the fact that the IRS was
garnishing his Social Security check. I found out when I opened one of the
letters he received in my mail box.

Now he has to collect cans, making $10 a day, in order to
eat. It’s all my fault because I won’t let him use my vehicle. In utter
despair, I turned to Dr. Phil for help. I saw that he was looking for guests to
appear on his show. The subject was little boys in men’s bodies. What could be
more perfect?

I was so excited when the producer contacted me to appear on
the show. Finally, I would get vindication from someone who couldn’t be bullied
like I had been. Unfortunately, Craig refused to appear under any
circumstances. I’m sure he didn’t want to appear to be an ass in front of the
whole world which said something to me. All along he has known that he wasn’t
in the right. He just knew he could snow me if he fed me enough bs.

I realized something else too. he is perfectly willing to
let me suffer and destroy my life so he could keep his disastrous life the
same.

It occurred to me that as devastated as I am about not being
able to get the best help in the world, I may have gotten the blessing from Dr.
Phil anyway. I now see Craig in a different light and I will not tolerate his
bs anymore. I have filed for a legal separation and gave him a sixty day
notice. I have decided to live my dream of turning my house into a foster home
for indigent dogs. I will continue to write and live a simple life, no longer
inspired to live beyond my means.

I had to keep shopping, and eating to raise my spirits, but
as I devote myself to service, I find I need those things less and less. In
studying a photograph of Dr. Phil, I sense that he is related to the color of
amber. In doing an online search, I discovered that amber (chasmal) is
mentioned in the Bible. Scholars agree that the image is used in Ezekiel to
describe the visible glory of God. I do believe that Dr. Phil does convey a
sense of brilliance closely associated with our Heavenly Father.

Another inspiration for me is Mother Teresa, my spirit
teacher (See Spirit Teacher blog). At the same time this stuff about the show
was happening, I began reading a biography about her and found much
inspiration. She set the work on fire, founded numerous charities to help the
sick and dying, won numbers awards, including the Nobel Peace Prize, with
nothing more than the clothes on her back. Even when corporations offered her
money, she refused it. She felt the work should be done with donations given
from the heart of average people.

I can do this. I believe it was my calling all along. I
contacted the rescue where I got Diasy and offered to foster a dog named Fido.
He has been languishing in a rescue with no home to call his own for two years.
I aim to change that if I can. Only through my love of animals can I happily
live.

Monday, January 6, 2014

Every beauty which is seen here by persons of perception resembles more than anything else that celestial source from which we all are come."
---Michaelangelo

Last week, I was visiting the brick and mortar bookstore when I saw one particular book on the shelf. Above a photograph of Mother Theresa on the cover, I saw the words, "Spirit Teacher." I blinked and looked again. This time, the words said, "Mother Theresa." I picked up the book and saw that it was a book of her quotations.

I have always felt a strong connection to Mother Theresa and admired her greatly. I think she has done for damaged people what I wanted to do for damaged dogs--heal them.

Tonight, I was reading "Lightworker" by Savannah Arienta, an awesome book by the way. On page 55, she introduces the seven major planes between the physical earth plane and Source (an all-knowing, all powerful entity that dwells within every crevice of the universe). She says that knowing which plane a lightworker descends from is valuable because it will help you define your role as a light bearer here on Earth.

She also mentions several famous people throughout history who have descended from each plane. I most closely identified with the fourth plane, particularly since I'm a writer. And guess what? Mother Theresa is listed as one of the famous lightworkers from the fourth plane!

I take this to mean that I should further investigate who she was in the mortal realm. I will also trying calling her in to see if I can summon her spirit. Something tells me I can...

FROM LIGHTWORkER BY SAVANNAH ARIENTA

"Upon arriving at the fourth plane, a spirit will enter into a dimension where the beauty of sight is not possible for the human eye to process. The quality of sound is so clear and pure that it is beyond words and the brilliance of the light energy is incomprehensible to us on Earth. The fourth plane is a place of glorious love and light. All of the beauty of sight and sound are here.

Lightworkers who descend from the fourth plane work from a place of pure love and healing light. These Lightworkers bring kindness and compassion and hope to humanity. They bring healing messages of love, forgiveness, and unity through their hands. They bring peace and harmony through words, music, or art. The Fourth-plane Lightworkers are artists whose glorious works beautify the Earth plane, the composers who give us music to lift and enlighten our spirits, and the writers and poets who change the world with their words. All works of art, literature, music, and objects of beauty come from this plane.

Lightworkers from this plane can:

* Have strong compassion for others.
* Be very empathetic toward others.
* Have strong creative abilities.
* Be prolific writers.
* Have musical talents.
* Have an eye for beauty.
* Have artistic abilities.
* Have powerful healing capabilities.

Blue-jay in the Morning

Mountain Shadows Mobile Home Park

Colorful Orbs in my Backyard

How an Escondido Trailer Park Became a Neighborhood

As seen in San Diego Reader (September 20, 2007):

When I think of my neighborhood, I think of transformation. My five-year-old daughter and I were mesmerized when we first saw Mountain Shadows Mobile Home Park back in '94. There were plum and orange trees growing in the common areas, a far cry from the asphalt jungle we came from.

We thought we'd be happy here. We explored the play area, which consisted of a swing set and a bank of enormous rocks for the kids to climb on. But once we settled in, so did reality. The mostly older mobile homes were decaying and so were the people who lived in them.

Our next-door-neighbor, Bob, had a police car parked in front of his home ever Saturday night. Once, he threatened to kill a social worker who was going to take away custody of his grandkids. I could hear him beat them with a belt at 2:00 in the morning. Another time, he threatened me when my puppy barked on the back porch, waking Bob from a nap. I was really blown away when he came over complaining that my weeds were growing in his yard. I politely dismissed him, saying I had to get back to more important things, like painting my toenails.

His adult children came in and out of his house as if it had a revolving door, depending on whether they were in jail or had just gotten out. The last time I saw Bob's son, Matthew, I was looking out my kitchen window and saw the 30-year-old man lying in the street. He had overdosed on some kind of drug and had to be hauled away by ambulance.

The neighbors directly behind me were drug addicts too. The couple was up at all hours, singing and rocking the night away to tune's like M

The Lord's Helper

As seen in True Confessions, January, 2006:

I live in the city of San Diego. I was working as a receptionist for a property management company. I was in a bad mood one day, because I knew I was about to be fired. I had seen a Help Wanted ad for my job on my boss's desk. I was a single mother, so I was worried about supporting my two small children.

Before closing, a woman walked into the office, looking flustered. She asked where a particular address was, and I had no idea right offhand. I just wanted to get rid of her. I had enough problems of my own, and didn't feel like dealing with hers. But a voice told me to help her. I took her piece of paper, which had a name and address on it, and discovered she was looking for a battered women's shelter. I called information, got the phone number, called it, and wrote down the directions for her. She was so grateful that her flustered look turned into a relieved smile.

The following Sunday, I went to church. I could have fallen over in shock. The same woman was introduced as a new member of our church! There were probably a hundred churches in the area, but she had come to mine.

This experience renewed my faith in God. He had used me as an instrument to do His work. I felt honored. I had been angry at the world, but I was reminded that there really is someone out there working for each one of us!

From then on, I developed a new attitude about life and found a better paying job soon afterward.

--Melinda Santa Cruz

View From My Front Porch

When I see the sky, I see God

Foster Dog Steals Chihuahua's Bed

No one told Sinda size really does matter!

My Sweet Baby, Daisy

Foster dog that adopted me, 2013

Gus, Red, and Me

Hanging out on the porch, 2013

Bliss, My Heart and Soul, at Thirteen

Two weeks before she passed in 2012

The View Near my Home

Lake Hodges, 2012

My Mother's Dog, Aiden

Not a rescue, but cute.

Boy at Play

Adoption event, SD Humane Society, 2012

Two of my Shelter Rescues

Proceeds from my healings go to support my rescue dogs

Was Andrew Nice to You?

As seen in San Diego Reader, July 30, 2009:

May 10 must be the year's hardest day for Mary Ann. In 1997, her son, Andrew Cunanan, went on a killing spree that ended with the death of fashion designer Gianni Versace, on a sparkling day outside his mansion in Florida. In a final act of hatred, Andrew snuck aboard a houseboat and turned the gun on himself. A police photo of Mary Ann's dead son is posted online. I hope she never sees it. No matter what our dis do, the umbilical cord is never severed.

Mary Ann has two other children, but I suppose it's Andrew she dwells on. Where did she go wrong? How could this have happened? Mary Ann is a devout Catholic and my mom assisted her in making a shrine for Andrew, shortly before he went on his rampage. He had hurt his mother. Mary Ann didn't express it in words, but my mother knew from looking at the bruises on Mary Ann's upper arms.

The odor of burnt candles lingered between them as the two women set up a card table and covered it with a cloth. Mary Ann smoothed out the wrinkles and placed a statue of St. Jude in the middle and then surrounded it with pink and purple silk flowers. She placed her Rosary on the Statue so that it would be there when she needed it. Two candlesticks in containers and a bowl of holy water followed. "After it is blessed, it will be a comfort to me," Mary Ann said. "The smoke from the candles will carry my prayers straight up to God."

Since Mary Ann didn't drive, my mother drove her out to the commissary at Camp Pendleton to buy coats for the grandchildren. Before becoming a stockbroker, Mary Ann's husband had been in the military, so that was where she shopped. While standing in line, Mary Ann looked at her watch and declared, "I've got to get home to wash Andrew's shirt. It's the only one he has for work." ON the way back to Rancho Bernardo, she told my mom that the church had paid their past-due electric bill.

By four p.m., the hot day had settled on the cramped apartment, making it stuffy. Andrew was there and had washed his own shirt. He bristled at the sight of his matronly mother. "Why don't you dress like Kate?" he asked. My mom's jeans, leather jacket, and highlighted hair made her look like Mary Ann's much younger sister, though they were about the same age.

After a spaghetti dinner, the two women were chatting over coffee at the kitchen table when my mom heard the freezer door pop open. A flying object hit the wall near Mary Ann's head. Andrew had hurled a block of Thrifty-brand ice cream across the room, leaving a dent. "I only want Haagen Dazs! he shouted. Both women were stunned.

My mother and sister were impressed when they met Mary Ann in the nursery at St. Rafael's Church. She worked there to make money, since her husband, Modesto, had disappeared in 1988. He had been caught embezzling his clients' money, and for a time, his family hadn't a clue as to his whereabouts.

Then Andrew caught wind that his dad was in his native home, the Philippines. Andrew flew over to visit him. What Andrew discovered sent shock waves through him. The father he so revered was living in a rundown shack. This shattered Andrew's self image as a God-given prince. His own father had cultivated that image. He flew back to the states and began a downward spiral that he never recovered from.

My sister took my nieces to the Cunanan apartment, a single story unit on the corner of Rancho Bernardo Road and Bernardo Center Drive, so Mary Ann could baby-sit. Andrew was rarely there, so Annie and Ava sat on his bed because the only TV was in his bedroom.

This is how it was around the Cunanan house, even before his dad abandoned them. Once his parents discovered that Andrew had an I.Q. of 147, all of the privileges were reserved for him. Andrew was the only child sent to the prestigious Bishop's school in La Jolla. He occupied the master bedroom of the house, even though everyone else, including his parents, crammed into the other bedrooms. He grew up with a sense of entitlement and showed contempt for those more successful than he.

I met Andrew two years before he plunged downhill. His black hair was neatly trimmed. His tanned face was symmetrical and had dark, laughing eyes. He was a manger at Thrifty Jr., across the street from the apartment he shared with his mother. My mom and I went to the store to get bandaids for my heel, which had been rubbing on my shoe.

"Hey, Andrew!" my mom said with a big grin. "This is my othe daughter." He stood up from his task of stocking a bottom shelf and turned a bright smile on me. "Hi!" Just then, an attractive man Andrew's age caught his eyes. "He's pretty!" he said, making no secret of the fact that he was gay.

His mother seemed to have her head in the sand regarding his sexuality. She once showed us a photo album of Andrew with his "girlfriends" from high school. Maybe it was denial; maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Upon leaving the store, my mom said, "The older customers just love him here. He's so patient with them." Little did she know that he was pilfering their drugs to get high.

In June, my mom met me at her front door in her robe and slippers. Her irises were popping. She had been watching the news all morning. "Andrew is running around killing people and no one can stop him," she said. I stared at her. "I don't get the joke."

"Look!" she said, leading me to the TV. "It all over TV." I started following the story of Andrew's wild ride. He first killed two lovers of his who had successful careers and whom Andrew thought had abandoned him. The other victims just seemed to be collateral damage.

"I wish I could talk to him," I said.

"Aren't you afraid he'd hurt you?" my mom asked. That thought had never occurred to me.

Although the sun always smiles in California, it spares us little heartache. Three months later, I was at my sister's house with my 11-year-old niece when the report came on the TV that Andrew had been found dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. My thoughts were on Mary Ann. Did she know yet? Would she find out from a news report?

Then I thought of Annie. I found her on the front porch, where she'd gone to avoid the news. Tears were threatening to overflow. "Was Andrew nice to you?" I asked. Her blonde head nodded while she bit her lips to keep the dam from breaking. Thank you, Andrew, for not hurting my nieces.

The last time I saw Mary Ann, she was covered up in an old coat and sunglasses with a scarf tied under her chin. It was a hearty spring day that didn't require a coat and she dipped a hankie and washed her hands in a fountain at the Mercado shopping plaza. It takes a tremendous amount of faith to be Mary Ann Cunanan. I wish her a happy Mother's Day.

*Andrew Cunanan was the 449th person to make the FBI's Most Wanted Fugitive list, but the first from San Diego to do so, according to en.wikipedia.org.

--Melinda Santa Cruz

In God's Hands

As see in True Story magazine (Miracle of Faith), September, 2011.

One night when my husband and I were asleep we got a call from the reverse 911 operator. The voice on the recording said that there was a wildfire in our neighborhood and we had ten minutes to evacuate. Scrambling to our feet, we grabbed the things that couldn't be replaced and piled into the car.

Then we went back to the house for our clothes. When I opened my dresser drawer, I found the small jeweler's box containing my wedding ring. I'd taken it off earlier that day so it wouldn't get messy while I did some painting. Relieved that I hadn't forgotten it, I put the box on a ledge by the front door. I'd plan to pick it up on my way out and then went back to my bedroom for some other things.

On our way to our daughter's house in the next county, I remembered that in my haste to leave I'd forgotten all about the box that held my wedding ring. I then received a call from the alarm company. The heat detector inside our house had just gone off. I broke down in tears, figuring that the thing that means the most to me--my wedding ring--was gone forever.

I stewed over my loss until finally I couldn't take it any longer. I decided to put the whole matter in God's hands. If it were His will for me to have the ring, then I would have it again.

When we got to our daughter's house, we turned on a newscast to see if we could find out anything about our neighborhood. We were shocked and devastated as we watched an aerial view of the house we'd lived in for nineteen years go up in flames. After three days, we were allowed back onto the property. There was nothing left, not even one piece of furniture. I couldn't even see where the couches had been.

Several church groups came to our area to aid in our recovery. The Mormons brought shovels, gloves, and masks from Utah because stores in San Diego were running out of them. Another group brought sifters made out of screens. They had used the devices to help victims of Hurricane Katrina recover some of their property.

They worked diligently for days, sifting through piles of ash. At the end of the search, the man in charge presented me with my meat thermometer, a rosary, and something I never thought I'd see again. The jeweler's box containing my wedding ring!

The ring symbolized hope for us that all was not lost. We were joyful and happy. After the local jeweler cleaned up the ring, it was as good as new. It became an ever-present reminder that God really can work miracles in our lives.

--as told to Melinda Santa Cruz

He's Still Taking Care of Us

As seen in True Story magazine (My Visit From Beyond), January, 2011.

Grandpa was the kind of guy who was always taking care of everyone else. When he died, the director of the funeral home said that people had called all day for information about the funeral. Almost two hundred people came to pay their respects.

After the service, a friend told us that Grandpa had loaned him money when he was losing his business. A business client said that Grandpa had visited him in the hospital, and had paid part of the bill. They didn't have to convince us that Grandpa had a big heart. He'd loaned many family members money to get a start in life and he even set up trust funds to pay for his grandchildren's college educations.

If somebody didn't repay a loan, Grandpa didn't complain or get angry. He was just grateful to have made a difference in his loved ones' lives.

"I can't think of a better way to spend my money," he'd said.

His words came back to me when the recession hit. My husband and I both lost our jobs and we couldn't find new ones. A few months later, our daughter graduated from phlebotomy school and she couldn't find a job either. The work world had become a buyer's market and few companies were hiring workers without experience. The worst part was that our daughter had gotten a three thousand dollar student loan to pay for training, but she had no way to earn money to repay it.

Month by month, my husband and I took what we could from our unemployment checks to pay the loan. We had little food and could only put ten dollars' worth of gas in our car's gas tank at a time. Although we sacrificed what we could, after a year our daughter still owed two thousand dollars, five hundred dollars.

I figured that since I couldn't find a job, I might as well volunteer at the county probation department until the economy turned around. On my first day, the man training me told me about the California State Controller's website for unclaimed property.

Most people I knew wouldn't have money that they didn't know about. They needed every penny. Then I remembered Grandpa. He always had money somewhere. He wasn't rich, just frugal. He didn't believe in using credit cards and as a young man, he'd sock away every penny for a rainy day.

I typed Grandpa's name into the website and an unclaimed amount of two thousand, five hundred dollars popped up. It was a refund due him from an insurance company. After filling out a claim form, we were able to pay off our daughter's loan. Grandpa wouldn't have wanted it spent any other way. I don't think it's a surprise to anyone who knew him that the guy with the big heart had come through for us once again.

--Melinda Santa Cruz

The Prayer

By Andrea Bocelli and Katherine McPhee

On the Wings of Love

By Jeffrey Osborne (In Memory of Gene Page)

My Finest Work to Date

Click here to read my essay, "Adopting Katie."

Fuzzy Fee Dog Rescue

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Quote by Mother Teresa

...That little one who is unwanted and unloved, who has come into the world already unwanted, what a terrible suffering that is! Today it is the greatest disease, to be unwanted, to be unloved, just left alone, a throwaway of society.

Excerpt From The Healer's Manual: A Beginner's Guide to Energy Healing for Yourself and Others

Page 13

The ancient healers recognized the importance of treating the whole person, not just symptoms. They recognized the importance of paying attention to everything. They recognized the importance of knowing how the body functions, and thus were able to use methods that promoted its natural functions. They recognized the importance of the spiritual growth of the individual in the healing process. Dis-ease on any level gives us the opportunity to learn and thus reach a higher state of awareness and consciousness. The process we use in our own healing reflects our ability to move into new perspectives.

The Zen Buddhists have a wonderful three-line poem that reflects this:

I chop wood. I carry water. This is my magic.

Inherent within this poem is the recognition that everything in the physical is a miracle. It is magic because our essence is a spiritual essence that is manifesting throughout our physical body. And if we can manifest something as magnificent as the human body, we can certainly manifest a little better health, abundance, prosperity, and fulfillment within our lives.

An old occult axiom states "All energy follows thought." Where we place our thoughts, that is where energy will begin to manifest. If we change our imaginings, we change our world. We must begin to dwell on the infinite possibilities, rewards, blessings, and potentials that are possible within our own lives, rather than how limited we are. As we learn to do so, we find that we do not have to be at the mercy of our life circumstances or our bodies. We can bring light, energy, and health into our lives and into the lives of all we touch. And that is becoming a healer.

---Ted Andrews

Excerpt From "Women Who Love to Much"

Page 210

Developing you spirituality, no matter what your religious orientation, basically means letting go of self-will, of the determination to make things happen the way you think they should. Instead, you must accept the fact that you may not know what is best in a given situation either for yourself or another person. There may be outcomes and solutions that you have never considered, or perhaps the ones you've most feared and tried hardest to forestall may be exactly what is necessary in order for things to begin to improve. Self-will means believing that you alone have all the answers. Letting go of self-will means becoming willing to hold still, be open, and wait for guidance for yourself. It means learning to let go of fear (all of the "what ifs") and despair (all of the "if onlys") and replacing them with positive thoughts and statements about your life.

(Developing spirituality) requires willingness, not faith. Often with willingness comes faith. If you don't want faith, you probably won't get it, but you still may find more serenity than you've had before.

Developing your spirituality also requires that you use affirmations to overcome old patterns of thinking and feeling, and to replace old belief systems. Whether or not you have any belief in a higher power, affirmations can change your life.

...Just to get you started, here's one: "I no longer suffer. My life is filled with joy, prosperity, and fulfillment."

Other affirmations in the book:

The Serenity Prayer

God grants me the serenityTo accept the things I cannot changeThe courage to change the things I can,and the wisdom to know the difference.

All things are possible with love.

Love is working in me to heal me and strengthen me,to calm me and guide me to peace.

I release all the pain of the past and welcome the health, joy and success that are mine to claim.